


Silenced

by Ode_To_Time



Category: Horus Heresy - Various Authors, Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, Face Sitting, Femdom, Gangbang, Maybe kinda ooc, Porn Without Plot, Restraints, Revenge Sex, Size Kink, Whipping, Whump, not very canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:01:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26896360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ode_To_Time/pseuds/Ode_To_Time
Summary: Arrested on Prospero, Magnus is handed over to the Sisters of Silence for transportation to Terra.
Relationships: Magnus the Red/Sisters of Silence
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	Silenced

Sisters flanked him on each side. They were glaring at him. It was difficult to read their expressions, covered by their armors, but he saw it in their eyes. He had killed many sisters before he surrendered. They kept their distance to allow him space to walk, though around them Magnus could no longer keep up the illusion of size. But worst of all, they cut off any access he had to the warp, forcing him to rely only on his five senses. For the first time, he felt truly powerless.

He would never admit it to anyone, for he was too proud, but the Sisters disturbed him. Maybe he could describe it as fear, but he was not supposed to feel fear. Looking at them was like looking into a void. A shapeless being. He tried to think of them as mortals, but when that failed, he tried to think of them as creatures wearing mortal skins. Anything to rationalize the unease they gave him.

They brought him to a holding cell, where chains hung from the ceiling. They stepped away. He knew what they intended, and took a step forward, but a sister stopped him. She was set apart from the other sisters by a tattoo on her forehead and a scar under her eye, still red and healing. She spoke to him in thoughtmark.

_Remove your armor._

“In front of all you?” He asked, sparing a glance at the rest of them. 

_To ensure that you are not concealing weapons._

He frowns, unsatisfied. But he steps back, removing his ornamental belt first. It fell with a clatter. Sisters quickly snatch it up, setting it aside as he continues. Then, he removes his chest plate, his hair cascading over his muscled chest after he does so. Finally, he removed his greaves, and stood before them in nothing but his white loincloth. 

He felt their eyes on him. A small bit of pride swells in his chest.

But the sister points to his forehead. Confused, his fingers brush against his headdress, and he sighs. He plucks it off, letting it fall to the ground.

“There.” He said. “Now what?”

_On your knees._

He takes a moment to register the command. Indignant anger flared up inside him at the thought of kneeling before these freaks. But he swallows, obeying the sister’s command. The sisters came closer. His body trembled, weakness threatening to overwhelm his body and collapse to the floor. She motioned him to present his wrists. They clamped adamantium chains on each side, then connected them to shackles on the ground. 

Magnus shifted uncomfortably. Sweat was starting to form on his brow and his hearts were racing, though he did not understand why. The Sister points to another, darker skinned and with twin topknots, directing her towards Magnus. She steps forward, moving to his backside. When she walks past, Magnus notices the whip tied to her hip.

Not a second passed before he heard the crack of the whip and searing pain across his back. He howled in pain, fists clenching and writhing against his bonds. Another crack hits him, this time across his shoulder blades. Then another, and another, and another. His mouth tried to form words, but the only thing that came out were screams. It was only when the sister paused to catch her breath that Magnus could speak.

“What are you _doing_ _?_ ” He shouted, struggling to look behind him. There was sweat on her brow, her eyes narrowed with a violent anger. Her chest rose and fell with labored breaths. She wiped away at her eyes. Tears, they were.

He looked them in the eye, as difficult as it was. Black spots were starting to form in his vision, but he refused to take his eyes off of these women until the tattooed sister raised their hands.

_Your disregard for the Edict resulted in many deaths. Do you care?_

His expression did not change. Her question was simple, but it did not have a simple answer. He did care, but that would not be good enough for them. It wouldn’t even be good enough for his father.

“I believed the consequences were less important than my intentions.” Magnus said. “But it had to happen.”

Another crack, this one cutting into his skin. He hissed, wincing at the white hot pain searing across his back. The tattooed sister grabs his jaw, lifting his head to face her.

_Your Father, his custodians, and my sisters fight a battle below the palace. Already your folly has killed many of my sisters and Custodians. The war on your planet killed many more. I know you personally killed many._

“It happens in wars.” Magnus answered bluntly. “I never wanted to fight Russ—“

She raised her hand to stop him.

_I am sure you’re aware that younger sisters act as interpreters between the sisterhood and the Imperium. Normally, I would be using a Proloquor to speak to you. Would you like to know what happened to her?_

“She died during the crossfire.” He said. “Either on Prospero or on Terra.”

_You killed her. You do not even remember, do you?_

Magnus’ lips parted, but he did not speak. Of course he had, but he did not know what they expected. As adverse as he was towards them, he never wanted to fight them, but if he had to defend himself against them, he must. He opened his mouth to express this, but the sister stopped him once more.

_Your disregard for the Edict resulted in deaths that should have never happened. For us, it has been worse. Pariahs like us do not have the same luxury of companionship. We are a tight knit group. When we lose a sister, it is like we have lost a part of ourselves. It is a grief that can consume us._

She lays her hand on his cheek, tracing his cheekbone. It took a moment before she took her hands back to speak.

_But we have our own ways of coping, now that you are here. Your status means nothing to us. We are permitted to treat you how we wish._

Her statement alarmed him. She motions for other sisters to approach him, whips holstered at their sides. Magnus tensed, knowing what was next. As the sister’s drew closer, Magnus felt more of his power drain. His body became weaker, his strength sapping and his vision becoming cloudy. They surrounded him. He tensed, mentally and physically preparing himself.

A whip came down on his back. He winced, clenching his teeth to hold back another howl of pain. There’s a pause until the next lash, hitting right down the middle of his back. Another hits him again, until his back becomes raw and bloodied from a collection of lashes from each sister. Even with his healing, he felt hot blood run down his back. When they finally stopped, he fell forward, only kept up by the chains. His mind was delirious and fatigued, unable to focus on almost anything around him. The tattooed sister cups his face, her armored touch still disgusting to him. She cranes his head upward, forcing him to look her in the eyes. He does not turn away. 

“Are you done?” He asks, voice raw and raspy. She slowly shook her head.

This spurned him to further rage. These mutants, these **_freaks_ ** with no connection to the warp were treating him like a lowly criminal. How dare they even think of treating him like this?

He glares at her, body trembling with anger. “ ** _Mutant_ **.” He hissed as though he uttered the most vile slur imaginable. The Sister only turned her head. 

She turns fully away from him, signing something to the other sisters he could not see. Immediately, the sisters began to unfasten their armor. He watches, confused, until a sister lifts her breastplate above her head and it falls to the floor with a clang. Magnus turned his head away when the sisters let their breasts fall free. He was no stranger to the opposite sex, but he still felt he should pay them some courtesy.

Soon, the shuffling and clinks of armor stop. The cell was silent once more. A wave of unease and weakness hits him again and, with intense effort, he opens his eyes.

The entire coven of sisters surrounded him, completely naked. They were all well-muscled and attractive, as much he could find them attractive anyway. Several of them bore discolored battle scars. Perhaps more upsettingly, they were all looking up at him. Heat bloomed across his face. A terrible, horrible idea crossed his mind about what they were planning.

“What’s going on?” He asks, not wanting to face his suspicions and hoping that this was just an elaborate scheme to intimidate him. “Why are you naked?”

The Sister from before, baring the same tattoo, stepped forward. He glanced down at her breasts, then her thighs, and snapped his gaze back up to her stoic face. She lifts her hand, but not to sign. Instead, she touched his face. He flinched at her touch, numb and cold against his skin. She leaned forward, and he felt his strength draining the closer she got. In a swift motion, she presses her lips against his.

Magnus gave a strangled cry, writhing against his chains. Her kiss was worse, numbing his senses and fogging his mind. Fingers find their way into his hair, pulling roughly. Her tongue forces its way into his mouth, his body too weak to fight her. Soon, he feels hands at his back. Then his torso, his arms, his _thighs_. The women had come closer and they were _groping_ him, His skin jumps at their touch, sensitive to every area they explored. Their touch was gentle, teasing. Two hands traced along his spine before splaying over his shoulders. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots a pale hand on his shoulder. One sister places her hands against his abs, pressing against his hard muscles. Another pair of hands travels downward, tracing his loincloth. He longed to look, struggling to twist his head to see. But the sister held him still, her nails digging into his scalp.

In a fit of rage, Magnus bit down on the tongue in his mouth. Normally, he should have been able to bite it clean off, but the sister only jumps away with a trickle of blood. He wasted no time attempting to headbutt her, though she stepped away just in time. The sisters behind him stepped away as well, leaving him unmolested.

“Stop.” He pants. “No more. I order you.”

The sister was frowning. She shook her head.

“I am a **_Primarch!_** ” He roars. “I am not a toy for you to amuse yourselves with!”

_I already told you. You are a criminal. We can treat you how we wish._

He trembled with anger. His voice was low, like a vicious growl.

“When I’m free, I will make you beg for the mercy of death, **_freak_**.” 

The sister _smirked_. The bitch was _taunting_ him. Another wave of anger surges through him. He gathers up his strength and pulls at the chains again, yanking violently. The sisters moved closer, and his strength is siphoned again. A hard lash hits his back, hitting the worst of his wounds. Magnus could not stop himself from screaming, so distracted it took him a moment before he realized their hands were on him once again, hooking around his legs.

“Stop this!” Magnus roars, struggling furiously as the sisters grabbed his legs and hoisted them up. His writhing doesn’t affect them, his strength drained by their mere presence. He’s flipped onto his bloody back, the pain enough to make him lose his focus and groan uselessly. A sister lifts his head into his lap, holding his head. He looks down to see the women had already started to run their hands over him. His skin tingled under their touch. Worse, he felt his body grow weaker, heavier. Magnus struggles again, attempting to kick them away, only to feel a familiar, heavy metal clamp around his ankles. 

He made a low growl, pulling violently at his restraints and retching away from their groping, curious hands. They touch his whip marks, still sensitive form their beatings. They trace along his muscular frame, squeezing at his pecs and thumbing his dark nipples. Hands side over his abs, fingers tracing around each individual muscle. Beneath his waist, they press against the insides of his thighs. Under their combined touch, his body grew heavy and weak, not even able to pull at his restraints with any ounce of strength. Soon all he could do was lie helplessly as they molested him.

Magnus closed his eye and turned his head, struggling to think of other things. Oh, how he longed to leave his fleshly body behind and let his mind wander the Great Ocean. But every touch forced him back into this reality, where these Pariah freaks had him at his mercy. Worse, his traitorous body was _reacting_ to their ministrations. He could feel his cock twitching to life. It throbbed with every beat of his hearts, straining against his loincloth.

A sister presses her hands to his thighs, close enough to his groin to alarm him. His eye snapped open to glare down at a sister eying his clothed manhood with a mix of hesitation and excitement. 

“Don’t.” He growls.

She doesn’t even _hesitate_. She grabs his bulge through the thin cloth, squeezing roughly. Magnus makes a noise like a whimper; humiliation overpowering indignant anger. She massages and pulls at his clothed member, tracing a finger along his shaft as if gauging his size. The older sister, sensing her hesitation, signed for her to continue. Magnus felt his entire body tense in fear. 

He watched, mouth slightly parted, as the sister hooked her hand around his loincloth and pulled it away. His cock springs free; hard and rigid. The sister raises a brow. 

Magnus... well, he knew he was of formidable size. Larger than any normal man in stature, his manhood followed suit. Normally he was proud, but right now, all he felt was shame.

Undaunted, the sister wraps her hand around his cock, pumping it with one hand. While Magnus did not have as much sexual experience as some of his other brothers, he could tell from her movements that she’d never done this before. She squeezed him tight and pulled hard, enough for him to make a low grunt of pain. The other sister bats her hand away, curling her fingers around his shaft. She began to stroke, her hand slow and gentle. Her thumb runs over the tip, her other hand massaging his balls. To his disgust, it felt good. He fought the urge to buck into her hand, his cock already starting to drip with precum which she used to lubricate him further. The younger sister watches intently, her own hands rising as if to imitate—Damn it all, she was _instructing_ her.

The realization fills him with an unreasonable rage. Furious, Magnus twists his hands and grabs the chains, pulling violently. They creak and strain under his grip, enough to alarm the sisters to pull away from him. A sister grabbed her whip, cracking it hard against his stomach, thighs, and pecs. Magnus howled in agony, struggling even as his body grew sore and racked with pain. She only stopped when she drew blood. He didn’t know when he stopped moving so violently, only registering that at some point he could only lie and tremble.

He felt hands against him once again. They traced over his whip marks, causing some pain but only enough to make him wince. One sister kisses where blood was bubbling from a cut - right in the middle of his thigh. The virgin sister takes her place between his thighs, taking his cock in hand. She repeats the motions of the older sister, stroking him gently before speeding up, running her thumb teasingly against his head. His thighs clench, muscles tensing as pleasure shot through him. He began to pant. He was close.

Then, she stopped. Confused, Magnus looked down to see the sister being instructed again. This time, the older sister grabs him with one hand and leans down, licking the head of his cock. If he could, Magnus would have sat up and slapped her away from him, but the best he could manage was another rattle of the chains and useless kick of the legs.

“Don’t you _fucking_ dare!” He roars, and his next words die in his throat as the whip cracks down on his stomach. A leather bar is shoved in his open mouth, tied tightly behind his head.

_That comes off later. I’m sure you can guess what for._ A sister signs.

Magnus snarls muffled curses, threats, and slurs, not caring how it made him look. Perhaps once, he may have had some inkling of respect for these sisters, but now he hated them with a fury that overpowered his hatred of the wolves. He wanted to rip free of his chains and kill them all; to feel their blood on his hands and watch the life drain from their eyes. 

Meanwhile, the older sister takes his cock back in her hand. She kisses his head, her tongue flicking out to tease him. Despite his anger, he groans, his head lolling back. Her tongue runs along his length, sucking at his tip. Then, she grips his shaft and guides him into her warm, wet mouth. She took him as deep as she could, only making it halfway down before lifting herself off, leaving a trail of cooling saliva. She presses her lips to his head once more and bobs her head up and off his shaft, her tongue licking the underside of his shaft. 

Magnus groans. Just the sight of her made him sick and further fueled his rage, but it felt _good._ So, _so_ good. The other women, fascinated by their sister’s skill, drew closer to his thighs. This spurned him to further humiliation and shame, his face and cock burning hot. Some of them lean down to stroke at his testicles and the insides of his thighs. Others plant kisses where their sister could not reach. As she continued, her pace became quicker and more fervent. 

With the combination of the sisters mouth contracting around him and the other women kissing around his cock and thighs, Magnus longed for release. She swirls her tongue around his head, and Magnus tensed his muscles and announced his release with a shameful moan. Seed filled the sister’s mouth, drizzling past her lips with a choking cough. It was far too much for a single woman to handle, though she still swallowed and lapped hungrily at his cock until it was clean. Unfortunately, he was still hard. 

Now satisfied, she stepped away from him, replaced by a new sister. He prepared himself for another session, only for the sister to climb up and straddle his waist. He looked down to see two of her fingers pumping in and out of her entrance, dripping and soaked with her own juices. 

Magnus gave another muffled protest, struggling in vain as she gave his still-hardened cock a few pumps before positioning him between her thighs. In a swift stroke, she impales herself with barely a noise while Magnus bucks his hips with a strangled cry. Despite the pain of being pushed into a space that was just too small for him, his body still reacted to the insertion with pleasure. He moaned, drool dripping from his slightly open mouth. He tries to turn away, only for a hand to grab his hair and force him to gaze forward. 

The Sister at his thighs was panting, sweat on her brow and a slightly pained expression. She had not taken all of him, though enough for it to cause discomfort for the both of them. To his disgust, her stomach seemed to _bulge_ from his size. Slowly, she began to move her hips, planting her hands on his stomach for support. He closed his eye, trying to keep himself composed as her movements grew faster and more intense. He hated it. He hated every roll of her hips, every surge of sick pleasure that ran through him and every involuntary thrust he found himself giving her. Her body flushed, shaking as he met her thrusts. Mercifully, she was close.

When the sister came, she drove herself down with a quiet moan. Her heat clenches around him, tight and hot. Magnus shudders, his hips rising to thrust into her a final time. He felt his orgasm wash over him as he bucked his hips and came deep inside her. The sister remains, patiently riding out his orgasm as he fills her with his seed, some spilling out and wetting his thighs. When he finally ceased, his hips sag and his head lolls back, groaning.

The sister eases off of him, his seed dripping from her entrance. Something about the sight shamed him. Magnus instinctively moves to cover his face, but his chains instantly tense. Instead he simply closed his eye and turned away. He felt hands grasp his head and place him down on something soft. The leather bar is removed from his mouth and tossed to the side. Magnus sucks in a breath, licking his dry, chapped lips and opening his eye to a new sight.

Above him, a sister had planted her feet on either side of his head. Her fingers held open her entrance, her folds wet with arousal. Against himself, he licks his lips. He’s dreading it, _throne_ knows he’s dreading it, but some part tells him to give in.

She kneels to press her mound against his face. He’s smothered. He only makes a small noise of protest before her hands tangle through his red hair and pulls him roughly. He opens his mouth, dragging his tongue along her folds. She moans, nails digging into his scalp, thighs clenching around his head. He laps and sucks at her entrance, slurping noises barely audible from between her thighs. She rocks her hips, grinding against him. He feels a bump against his tongue, and from her reaction, he realizes it’s her clitoris. He focuses his attention on licking and sucking at the bundle of flesh, earning him more tugs of the hair and rocks of the hips. He felt lightheaded for a moment, then realized that he hadn’t been getting enough air. He cranes his neck upwards, swirling his tongue around her clit, occasionally sucking and moving back down. She’s panting, rolling against his lips. When she comes, her thighs clench around his head and she pulls his hair. She shudders, her essence spilling onto his tongue. 

Standing, she steps away. Magnus coughs, inhaling deeply. His chin and mouth were wet with her arousal and sweat. He tries to turn his head to the side, but the sister catches his cheek.

Another hand grabs his cock. Magnus looks up to see another, pumping him quickly. He squirms, opening his mouth to protest when she brings him to her thighs and slides him inside. His breath hitches, pulling at his chains. The sister held his head straight as he thrashed, unable to resist as the sister rolled her hips against his now numb cock. His eye was closed in concentration, struggling to endure her assault. She was able to get herself deeper than the previous sister, though she was whimpering as she did so. 

Hands grasp at his chest and stomach, tracing the lines of his muscles and squeezing his nipples. Some hands found their way to his thighs, snaking under the now-bouncing sister and playing with his balls. They groped and kissed, stimulating his body to new highs. For a brief moment, Magnus opened his eye to see two sisters latch themselves to his pecs, sucking at his nipples.

Words formed in his throat, but he could not speak them. Instead, he leans back against the sister’s lap. Her hands stroked his face, cool against his skin. As he felt pleasure build in his loins, he wondered why she, of all sisters, was so gentle to him.

His thoughts were cut short by a sister standing above him. He closed his eye, waiting. She presses her womanhood to his mouth, and Magnus wastes no time licking her folds. He finds her clit, lapping and sucking at the flesh. He could still feel the sister bouncing on his cock, though now she felt like a distant memory. Magnus felt her clench around his flesh, grinding against him as she rode out her orgasm, though he did not come. 

When she leaves, his cock hits his stomach with a wet slap. Weight on his knees indicated another woman, and he was enveloped in heat once again. He moans, barely able to focus on the sister sitting on his face. She grinds her hips down, hands tugging at his hair. He drags his tongue along her folds, his enthusiasm shot. He sucks at her clit, less concerned with pleasuring her and just wanting to get her off and away from him.

The sister at his waist rolled her hips with slow, heavy strokes. Unlike the other sisters, she was methodical. She did not seem as concerned for herself as much as she was for him. Every roll teased him, slowly coaxing out every bit of pleasure from his sensitive cock. He felt his pleasure building and building yet never reaching a plateau. He tried to roll his hips into her, but she went still as a statue each time. 

So lost to her ministrations, he forgot about the sister still sitting on his face; who reminded him of her presence by pulling his hair and grinding her mound against him. Groaning, he forced himself to focus on her, his tongue lolling at her clit. His pace is quicker this time, darting over her folds and sucking at her flesh. He plunges his tongue inside her, earning him a shaky moan. Her nails dig into his scalp and her thighs clench around his head, moaning. She stays there for a moment, recovering as Magnus tries to buck his hips into the sister at his thighs. 

When she leaves, Magnus lifts his head to see the other sister slowly rolling her hips, breasts swaying with every thrust. It was the tattooed one, her still expression calm and composed. He could see the sisters behind her, kissing up and down his leg while their hands massaged his muscles. Occasionally, they would press their hands to the insides of his thighs, close enough to tease his balls and make him shiver with anticipation.

His chest rose and fell with labored breaths. With every stroke and grope, he grew closer to climax. The sister lifted herself until his tip was just barely touching her entrance. Then, slowly, she sheathed herself, enveloping him in her warmth for a few sweet seconds. A desperate moan escapes him. The sister smiles, amused by his neediness. He glares at her, hateful and defiant.

She repeats this motion, though at a steadier rhythm. Sometimes, she would pause, leaving his manhood exposed to the cooling air or entrenched in her heat. Magnus tried to buck his hips, but other sisters held him down. He couldn’t bear to look at their delighted faces as he became a slave to their lusts. Desperate, Magnus leans back. Eyes closed, small moans escaping his mouth as he sought for release. He could no longer be an active participant.

He looks up at the sister holding his head with a half lidded eye. Damn her, she was smiling too. He knew what she wanted to hear, what he was now so tempted to say despite his pride. The sister raised her hands. 

_If I were you, I would just give in. It will make this easier._

He didn’t feel anger. He couldn’t even feel anger at this point. He didn’t want to submit to them, but any attempt to fight them ended with him submitting _anyway_. Magnus trembled with both anticipation and humiliation at the thought of giving in. But, with no other options, he spoke his next words in the smallest voice.

“Please.”

_Louder, so we can all hear._

“Please.”

_Be clear._

“ _Please, let me come again,_ ” He moans. “ _Please_.”

He gasped as the sister picked up speed. He squirmed and thrashed, his orgasm quickly overtaking him as he came hard. He cries out, bucking upwards and pumping the sister full of his seed. She clenched around him, her hands gripping his flesh as she ground her hips down.

Once his orgasm subsided, he resembled a slab of cut meat. His body hung, heavy and limp, as Magnus pants heavily. He never thought such an activity would leave him so exhausted. He had been used to leveling armies in one sweeping motion, yet this had beaten him?

_A short rest._ The sister signs, petting his hair. _More sisters await their turn._

He did not even have the energy to groan.

Magnus had no idea how long this torture lasted. Every sister took turns at his cock. Sometimes making him climax, sometimes not. But he knew his number of orgasms were somewhere in the double digits. The sisters had all taken turns at his mouth, he realized with disgust. They had licked, kissed, and sucked every piece of flesh on him. Their pants, moans, and sighs filled his ears for hours. Even now, he swears he could still hear them. Once they had their fill, some laid on top of him, others next to him, while others clothed themselves back into their full plate. 

Magnus was motionless. He felt his weight had increased tenfold. His body, especially his loins, were sore and ached with every little movement. His thighs were still drying from all the attention. Unable to do much else, he looked down at the sisters sleeping peacefully at his chest. In his mind, he conjured up all the tortures he wanted to inflict on them. Soon, he drifted off to sleep.


End file.
